#and if I get all cards in a manageable row - we might just see somethin's more with this

[carl77fx]

I NEED MORE ART OF THE II TGWDLM AU

PLEASEEEEE

Just for you, anon. 🫵[:)]

Feast. May these suffice.

[only-lurkin-dont-mind-me]

A Scarecrow Named Cyrus (Scarecrow Monster x Reader)

With a sigh, you looked over the rolling fields before you. Rows of corn, a small cluster of apple trees, a fine crop of pumpkins, some potatoes, and a small assortment of herbs. All ripe for a good fall harvest. Along with the fall faring flowers growing here and there with a controlled wildness to them. 

You had expanded your efforts in farming this year, and it was certainly paying off. Sure tending to so many good crops was hard work, but nothing you weren't capable of handling. Your little town could thank the roughness of your hands and your gentle nurturing attitude for such fine results. 

With October finally arriving, it would soon be time to harvest and sell off most of your crops. Until then, you had to prepare for the pumpkin patch the town was eagerly anticipating. You had chosen to host the pumpkin patch this year, and you were out to prove yourself to some of the less than pleasant members of the town. 

Did those people who irked you by commenting on your capabilities deserve your attention? Of course not. Did you feel spiteful and eager to prove them wrong to piss them off? More than anything else. 

Looking over your rows of pumpkins, you saw movement that was most definitely not the leaves and vines. With a confused glance, you made your way over. Your footsteps seemed to spook two rabbits that had been gorging themselves on one of the smaller gourds. As soon as they caught sight of you, they turned tail and ran as fast as they could. 

"Damn critters," with a huff of frustration, you kneeled. Turning the pumpkin over in your hands, observing the now broken backside of it. You gave the pumpkin a sad pat, hearing the hollow echo as you plucked it from the vine. "Sorry, buddy, not much left to do now but call you the first Jack 'o' Lantern of the year." 

With that, you wandered inside your small home. Already thinking of what you could do around the decent-sized hole in the side of the pumpkin to make it look intentional. Maybe a sideways face with a big 'o' mouth? That might work. 

As you set the pumpkin down and set to work you pondered over the rabbits. This wasn't the first time you'd caught something in your fields. Even when you were out among your crops, there would be birds, rabbits, foxes, and the occasional curious dog having escaped its yard. 

You couldn't keep watch over all of your crops all the time. Farm dogs were great to have but were mostly used for herding, guarding flocks, or guarding property against predators, not running off birds at the sight of them. Even rat dogs like terriers only caught mice in the barns much as a good mouser cat would. Where did that leave you? 

As you looked around the room for a hint of inspiration, you looked to a little fall card you had been given by one of your lovely neighbors, Ms. Ruby Jane. A darling old lady who had a good herd of sheep and great skill in baking. you would often help her tend to alongside her dog, Russel. 

A cartoon scarecrow stared back at you on the front of the card. 

"Would that work?" pondering aloud, you carried the little pumpkin to your window sill and placed it looking out to the fields. With the thought of a scarecrow in mind, you began wandering the house looking for a few things you could use. 

An old red and black flannel shirt, A pair of work jeans that you hardly used anymore. One of your old sunhats and lastly, gloves that you had stopped using some time ago. All you were missing was some scrap fabric to stitch together it's head, and hay to stuff it. Excited over a new project, you dashed off to Ms. Ruby Jane's farm. You knew she always had scrap fabric and hay bales for her sheep that you could buy.

"Well, ain't this a nice surprise? Good afternoon dear, please come on inside," Ms. Ruby Jane held out an arm, inviting you inside with a warm smile. 

"Thank you, ma'am. I don't mean to barge in out of nowhere," you tried to apologize for the unexpected visit only to have her wave you off.

"Nonsense, I always appreciate the company," she wandered off to the living room, no doubt to her chair settled by the fireplace. You followed suit, finding your usual spot on her couch. Russel, her rottweiler, looked up to you with the same expression that always made him look like he was smiling. 

"Hey, buddy." 

Russel huffed in response and settled back down, not appreciating being woken up from his midday nap. 

Ms. Ruby Jane spoke in her warm voice, calling your attention back to her. "Not that I don't mind the visit, but was there somethin' specific you came lookin' for?" leave it to her to know when you always needed something. 

"Yes, Ma'am actually, I was gonna ask if you had any scrap fabric I could use for a scarecrow? I have needles and thread for patchin' my clothes but nothin' the size I would need for, well, a head. I was also gonna ask if I could buy one of your haybales for stuffin' if that's alright."

Ms. Ruby Jane stood slowly, "Of course, of course, I've always got somethin' in that ol' chest of mine that you could use. You just wait right here and keep Russel company while I find you somethin' you can use to keep those fields of yours in shape," with that she began walking up the stairs behind you, going to rummage around in one of those old rooms that she asked people to stay out of.

  Ms. Ruby Jane was a mysterious person to be sure, but her privacy was hers and not something to question. She had shown up in town one day out of nowhere. Her home seemed to appear overnight, her sheep coming from the woods that surrounded that same little home. She was always kind to you and made sure you were doing well. You tried to do the same, helping her find any missing sheep, shearing them on occasion if she was too busy to manage to wrangle them up. Getting her haybale loads to her barn, anything you could lend a hand with you tried to do. 

It didn't take long for her to return with a mischievous glint in her eyes and a brown piece of fabric, cut clean and sized perfectly for what you needed. As she handed it to you, it felt strange. Warm, most likely from her hands. The fabric seemed nicer than you were anticipating. "Ms. Ruby Jane This is some of your nice fabric, made for dresses and suits. I can't use this; I would feel bad," you tried to explain but quickly realized that she would hear none of it.

As you looked over the pictures on her walls, you never once saw any family photos. Pictures of places she had lived, friends she had made, some of her favorite animal companions, some paintings she especially enjoyed painting. You hadn't asked about any family, she seemed happy just her, Russel, and her flock. Who were you to judge? 

"Dear, I have nothin' left to create with this, I am askin' that you put it to good use and think nothin' of it bein' too much. You do so much for me. Let me pay forward the favor," she stated with a finality in her words that you couldn't find it in you to disagree. 

"Yes, Ma'am, I'll be sure to stop by again soon. I'll bring your apples from the fields. They're gonna be ready for bakin' by then!" You promised as you headed off back home, ready to start stitching your Scarecrow together.

"Of course, now you make sure to stop by mine again and let me know how it goes, alright?" Ms. Ruby Jane questioned as she walked you to the door, sensing your excitement with each step. 

After you got home it took a total hour to stitch up the clothes and stuff them, it took an additional thirty minutes to stuff and attach the gloves, another five minutes rummaging for an old pair of boots that you could put on the scarecrow, and that was it. All that was left was stitching together the face and attaching the pair of large black buttons you had found for eyes. As you went to grab the fabric strip Ms. Ruby Jane had given you though, you couldn't find it. You scoured the house for the next hour, unsure as to where it could have gone and you felt rather upset at that point. 

"Thank you, ma'am, that's real kind of you," the fabric held weight in your hands, more than what it should have. Then again, you weren't much of a tailor. You didn't know much beyond patching a hole in clothes, so what did you know?

'It's gettin' too late to keep this up,' you thought with a disappointed sigh. You looked to the nearly complete Scarecrow laying on your table. Walking over to it and placing a hand on its hay-filled torso, patting it lightly, you spoke, "Don't worry, bud, I'll find your noggin sooner or later, then we'll get you out in the fields. Till then, you just rest up. I'll see you in the mornin'," you began to walk down the hall to your room, bidding the Scarecrow goodnight.

It took three days. Each day you would greet the headless scarecrow laying on your table, waiting to be complete. You would talk to it like it could hear you while cooking, or cleaning, or just in passing. As humans do, you grew attached to an inanimate object and named him, Cyrus. The first day you built his post, a simple thing with strong oak wood to hold him high in the fields, with a prop for both his arms and his legs, to keep him from falling. The second day you worked on picking the pumpkins and laying them out for the pumpkin patch. On the third day, you were picking Ms. Ruby Jane's apples to bring inside and wash off in the kitchen.

"Now where in the world..." Your voice trailed off as you walked over to the Scarecrow. In its gloved hand was the strip of fabric you had been looking for. You cautiously picked up the fabric. Looking it over to check if there was anything wrong. Determining that it was just as you had last seen it. You looked to the Scarecrow in confusion, "Were you the one hidin' this from me, or did you find it for me?" You questioned jokingly, hoping to settle the unease you felt in your gut. 

"I'm tellin' you, Cyrus, the corn maze is going to be great this year, so long as we can keep all those critters from eating it all up before families come to get lost going through it," you jokingly stated. Stealing a glance at the lifeless hay stuffed figure, laying on your table still. That's when you froze up in confusion and set down the last apple you had been cleaning. 

"Well, I suppose it's a good night for some stitchin', full moon's finally out, and I'm done workin' for the day so I've some time to kill," Why you decided to stitch the head together, you still don't know. But, turning down any gift from Ms. Ruby Jane left a bad taste in your mouth, you'd put the Scarecrow together, get it outside come morning time, and if a day went by and all was fine, you'd leave it be. 

As you were cleaning the apples, you were once again talking to the Scarecrow.

It took less than an hour, and only that long because how do you stitch together a circular shape? You were able to figure it out after a quick youtube search and had it done in no time. you even got the buttons eyes on and all even.

Connecting the stitches to the body, however, felt... odd. Like someone was watching you, waiting for something to happen. It wasn't necessarily a bad type of odd just not normal in the way you knew things to be. 

Cradling Cyrus's head in the crook of your elbow. Holding together the head and the collar of the shirt in one hand, and stitching with the other. It was almost peaceful if not for the odd feeling lingering. The same feeling kept you from looking at the scarecrows button eyes as if they were actually watching you.

As soon as you were finished, you took a step back to calm your nerves. Staring at the Scarecrow with unease that soon dissipated. It didn't move. It wasn't like it was anything but a hay-stuffed creation of your own hand, you were just scaring yourself. 

You let yourself laugh at the ridiculousness of your fear. Feeling it melt away bit by bit. "Oh, boy I sure have been workin' too hard or somethin'. Can you believe that little ol' you got me shakin' for a minute there? Cyrus, I tell ya, I'm about a half a step from loosin' it some day's," You looked over the Scarecrow with fondness in your eyes, this was yours, You had made him stitch by stitch, and you scared yourself over your own Scarecrow, irony sure was funny sometimes.

  You stepped forward and reached a hand out to pat the Scarecrows shoulder, feeling the hay rustle underneath the shirt. "Sure hope you don't mind, buddy." With one final pat, you walked off to your room, ready to sleep and give your hands a break. "I'll get you out on your post tomorrow, Cyrus, sleep well," you called out behind you. Hearing no response, just like you had expected.

 Standing on the stepladder and making sure it's settled on its post properly and that the short rope pieces are holding it in place well enough. After deciding that the Scarecrow is good and secure, you place a hand on its shoulder. "Course you can manage this, you'll do just fine. Keep an eye on these fields for me while I'm gone and when I'm here if you could. Thanks, Bud," with a quick 'Goodluck' you climb back down the step ladder and carry it back to the barn before setting out to the daily grind. 

The next morning you did as you promised. Lifting the Scarecrow over your shoulder and carrying him out to the center of the cornfield, right to its post.

First up was watering the herbs and wildflowers; they were smaller plants, so you took care to water them by hand to ensure they didn't get the wrong amount, leaving the bigger crops to the sprinkler system. After that, it was trimming dead leaves off of the corn stalks to make them look more presentable for the pumpkin patch. Lastly, you dove into the corn maze, along the cleared paths you had marked down before planting around them. They needed some clearing out and trail marking, so people knew what path to stay on and didn't try to go through the corn... Again. 

Throughout all of this, you would keep an eye on Cyrus. He seemed to be doing his job fairly well. You hadn't seen a bird land or catch any grounded critters running amock just yet. Hopefully, the new factor of him wouldn't wear off and would continue to keep those pesky animals away from your crops.

"Cyrus, you listen to me now. Your job here is to watch over these here fields for me and, try to keep all those critters and strays out of these crops. Can you manage that?" You ask the Scarecrow with a playful smile as if it would respond.

Over the next three days, your heavy work outside paid off, and come nighttime you were ready to open the pumpkin patch. the sun was just beginning to set as people filtered in through the front garden archway. It was covered in vines from the pumpkins that had already been harvested and displayed in rows close to the entrance. After that, there was the entrance to the corn maze as well as a small stand for hot chocolate to warm up the cold night. Baskets of apples stacked closeby as well. 

There were even multiple wooden tables with pumpkin carving kits for those who wanted to get to carving. Lights strung about here and there lighted the areas as the sun fell further and further, and the many groups of people that had finally arrived seemed to be enjoying their time, talking and laughing. It was just a good night.

Through it all, your scarecrow did a wonderful job of scaring off any unwanted visitors. 

'It really was been a good idea to make him,' you thought to yourself. Enjoying the joyful air surrounding your pumpkin patch. A group of teens caught your eye, they were walking out of the exit of the corn maze, laughing and scaring each other. You didn't think anything of it until you heard their remarks.

"I'm tellin' y'all, that scarecrow came out of nowhere! Damn thing scared the shit outta me." 

"Aw did little baby, Jackson get scared? Poor baby Jackson!"

"Shut up, man. You saw it too."

"And? It was probably just some guy paid to dress up and scare everyone that he wants to. I mean honestly, what a life. Can that be my job?"

That uneasy feeling you had felt when first stitching the Scarecrows head together returned stronger than before. You were quick to make your way through the maze, knowing just how to get to the center where the Scarecrow was. 

Under the full moon, you could see the Scarecrow clearly as its head slowly, uncertainly, lifted, and lolled slightly in your direction. His button eyes somehow seemingly staring directly at you. 

As you reached the center, you realized that you were the only one in the corn maze, you couldn't hear anyone else nearby. Maybe that was for the best.

You jerked your hand away from him as you watched in terror as this hay stuffed inanimate object... moved. His head followed you as you took steps back. He seemed to consider your response before, almost dejectedly, slumping back into its original position. 

Staring in a sense of confusion, trying to convince yourself you were scaring yourself again, you quickly made your way back out of the corn maze. You made it out just in time to see the last small family leaving the pumpkin patch. Fair enough it was getting late, that also meant you were now totally alone. 

You looked up to your Scarecrow, unable to tell if his position had changed. "Cyrus? You're doin' a good job keeping all those critters off the crops, just try to remember that the people here right now are invited here, they're alright to roam around long as they're not breakin' anything', they're welcome here." You walked over to the scarecrow cautiously, patting its lower leg where you could reach. "You doin' good out here, Buddy?" Your voice grew quieter as you asked as if fearing a response. 

You turned back to the scarecrow to see His head facing you once again. You looked between the garden entrance, debating running to Ms. Ruby Jane's, and back to Cyrus. Wondering if you should go figure out just what, why, how, anything was. 

He had been up for days now, and you hadn't heard almost anything about him. If he had bad intentions he could have done something the first night he was complete and still in your home. 

With one final look to the entrance, you made up your mind and rushed out and away from your farm.

Ms. Ruby Jane seemed to expect your arrival as she had two cups of tea set out along with a tray of sweets on her coffee table. Something about her behavior was off, however. Even Russel seemed far more attentive to the conversation at hand. 

"Now what did you say he did, dear one?" She asked in an eerily calm voice, the light from the fireplace giving her dark skin an almost ethereal glow. Her eyes seemed far more focused than you had seen before. 

"He moves, Ms. Ruby June!" You quickly stood up and began to pace the room, fear now evident in your actions and tone. "He moves and has apparently been able to. I ignored those little things like that bit of fabric going missin' only to appear in his hand, his headless bodies hay stuffed hand! He's alive apparently, a scarecrow looking around like he's got eyes to see instead of buttons, movin' like he's got muscle and bone inside of him instead of stuffin', he moves!" You looked directly at her for the first time during your fear-induced raving, and any fear immediately melted away. 

She was smiling, a proud sort of smile a parent would have whenever their child made something new. 

"You. You knew he would, didn't you?" Your question came out more like a statement as you slowly sat back on the couch. Russel walked over slowly and placed one of his paws on your foot in a far too understanding way for your liking. 

"I knew that if you treated that scarecrow like you treat anythin' else, he would more than happily accept his roll on your farm as somethin', someone, to help you. I know that you're a kindhearted person, dear. You've helped out this ol' lady more times than she can count. All I did was give you the materials for him to be a walkin', talkin', creature. It was your heart that gave him that last kick to get his sentience goin'," Ms. Ruby Jane picked up her cup and took a sip of her tea, still as relaxed as ever as you processed her words. 

You looked up at her, with one word on your mind. "Why?" Your voice came out weak, uncertain in the face of powers you didn't understand. 

She looked in her cup for a moment before letting out a sight. 

Russel, immediately sensing the change in mood, moved to her side. She reached her hand out to pat his head as she spoke. "I can't stay here forever, dear. I'll be headed on somewhere new soon, and you have done so much for me over the years I've lived here. I had to find some way to repay you, so when you came here lookin' for somethin' to finish making that scarecrow with? I knew it was the perfect time to give you the chance to create someone who could keep an eye on you, and help you once I'm gone." She looked you in the eye as she finished explaining. "I am paying forward your favor, I couldn't leave until I had and now I have." With those words, something in the air seemed to shift. as if the house itself had let out a breath it had been holding for so long. 

You understood a fraction of the hidden layers to her words. Ms. Ruby Jane was far more than she appeared but didn't seem open to discussing anything further, so you nodded your head in acceptance of her explanation. 

"Thank you, as always Ms. Ruby Jane,"  her words calmed you entirely. There were some things you wouldn't always understand or comprehend, but at the same time, you knew you couldn't turn down this kindness.

She smiled at you once again, "Of course, child. Now you best run along, you shouldn't be out so late for too long," Ms. Ruby Jane stood and guided you to the door. Giving you one last hug. Russel followed beside her and waited for his goodbye pet. As soon as he was satisfied, you began the walk home.

Once you finally made it back home, you looked to the Scarecrows Pole. Only to find it empty. You had to remind yourself that this was a gift from Ms. Ruby June, and she would never gift something she thought would harm you. You didn't have any reason to be afraid. Unfortunately, logic isn't always what your heart listened to. 

Once you reached the center of the cornfield, you found him. Having managed to untie himself and climb down, Cyrus stood, slouched in front of his pole. Staring dead ahead at you. Waiting for your next move.

You took an uncertain breath and stepped forward, "Cyrus?" 

Any words you were going to say next were cut off as the Scarecrow stood up straight, and tilted his head back. A deep throaty gurgling sound rose from inside of his very much hay stuffed neck. 

You stared with a newfound horror as the fabric of his face tore apart in jagged pointed lines, almost like rows of fangs forming where his mouth ought be. As his mouth opened wider and wider, you saw nothing but darkness inside of him.

The very sight had you ready to run right back to Ms. Ruby Jane but you were frozen in place. 

He took a slow step forward, finding his legs and maneuvering in a jerky awkward fashion that grew more steady with each step. " ..My cre..ator" His voice was louder this time, trying to find the right volume, the right way to put together the sounds. 

Cyrus looked back down at you. And he smiled a wide joyful smile that made any thoughts of running stop. You watched as his new-formed mouth moved and shifted as if trying to mimic the way your mouth moved whenever you spoke. A rumbling voice rose from his chest as he tried to speak. "..m...My. cre..a..tor."

The words made any sense of dread vanish. Confusion and awe were all that remained. "What are you trying to say?" you questioned with a gentle tone, encouraging him to try again.

You took a few steps forward, an arm reaching out as he stumbled, ready to catch him. "Try again, Cyrus. You can do it," Your eyes shown with clear excitement and fondness for the creature in front of you. 

He looked to your outstretched hand and reached for it, slowly, cautiously, figuring out the movements as he went. "My," Cyrus managed another step, now only a foot away and having stopped walking. He slowly maneuvered his other arm, reaching out a glove stuffed hand to carefully touch your cheek in wonder. "Creator." Cyrus wore a proud grin over having found the words. 

You, in shared delight quickly wrapped the scarecrow in a tight hug, able to lift him off the ground and spin circles with ease. "Atta boy, Cyrus!" You set him back down and grabbed his hands.

Cyrus seemed to only grow in enthusiasm over your response, grin growing wider as he began repeating the phrase, allowing himself to fall forward into your arms once more. He finally fell silent, wrapping hay stuffed arms around you, completely content to settle into your hug for a good bit.

You couldn't find it in yourself to complain, still beaming, you held him tight, pride welling up in your chest. "Good job, Cyrus."

[suffering-and-happy-about-it]

Hell, You and Christmas (Favored Ones, Part 10.)

Series description: Many things were surely fucked up in the year 2038, but no-one ever told anyone how all of it went down. What happened before a group of people left for Seattle to handle personal matters? Why did one girl refuse to leave all of it be? And why there were so many dead in the end?

Part Summary: Killing a human really did a number on you... Joel, Ellie or Dina couldn't help you to get out of the cycle inside your head. Until you realized that it's Christmas already.

A/N: We're slowly getting into the fluffy parts before it all goes downhill.

Warnings: Uh... So... You know... We be smutty... Again... THEY BE HAVING A HOOK UP RELATIONSHIP, WHAT DID YOU EXPECT. JUST WAIT UNTIL WE'LL BE IN SEATTLE. YOU'LL BEG ME TO WRITE FOUR SMUTTY CHAPTERS IN A ROW.

Word count: 5.8 K

Tagging:  @nemodoren @xxgoldenhour @missdictatorme​ @peakymarvels​ @davnwillcome​ @pickleriiick​ @jodiereedus22​ @gladiosamicitias​ @tamkashi​ @eternallyvenus​ @avengerssstuff​ @fangirl-inthe-us​ @avery-miller​ @mikah-writes​

Series master list: H E R E

Joel Miller’s playlist for the bonfire occasions: H E R E

Youtube playlists: JACKSON DAYS | SEATTLE DAYS

The winter of 2037, 3 months before the incident:

Joel hadn't seen you for four weeks. Sure, you met him in the town, chit-chatted with him, and asked him about his wellbeing, but you hadn't visited him ever since the patrol you've had. The man was letting you take your time, there was not a single sign of pressure.

Yet truth be told, he missed having you around. There was something empty about his house in the night when he was going asleep all alone. It wasn't that he hadn't sex in weeks, that didn't bother him as much as feeling the bed being cold and empty again. Was it what you saw that made you cut everything with him? It was quite confusing the man since you hadn't any problem with greeting him and talking to him. So Joel was trying to spend as much time as possible with reading, carving animals out of wood. He was often seen going for a hunt, spending most of the time either alone or with Tommy and Maria.

But it was hard for you. It wasn't that Joel would make you feel less safe once you saw him just suffocating a guy with his damned forearm, the quite opposite actually. If anything, this damned man with a somehow gentle soul, was perfectly capable of protecting you from bad men. But there was this something that was coming up inside of you - what were you if you were capable of taking someone else's life? Joel told you that makes you a survivor and any of the people that know weren't acting any differently around you.

Slowly, all the leaves were gone - and once, when you were walking around the town with your palms inside your jacket, you noticed that something fell on your nose. First snow of the year. It was late November - so much time flew past since you had your patrol with Joel. Jesus, were you out for such a long time? Holy hell.

When you came home, you looked at your clock - realizing it was already the thirtieth of November. December was starting the next day, which meant that Christmas were coming soon... And you hadn't got even one gift. It wasn't about the gifts at all and you knew that, but you enjoyed giving your friends something that would make them happy. Ellie was quite easy to pleasure - you, as usual, gave her a bottle of beer and some donuts from Seth. Dina loved scarves, so in exchange for help in the workshop, you got one for her. Jesse was quite hard to estimate, so you prepared a few bombs for him.

You managed to trade one of your other bombs for a book Diego wanted. Just a day before Christmas, you got all the gifts you needed and for real, there was only one person who you wanted to give someone to. This time it wasn't that you didn't want to spend time with Joel - it was just a lot to think about. And honestly, you were now in the phase when slowly, everything got back to normal again.

So you decided to give him a small gift he'll have to unwrap himself in his bedroom after the traditional Christmas party people held in the big dining room. Usually, people were drinking, eating sweets, dancing, and singing some carols at the beginning. Then, everyone usually went to talk with a group of friends. So, naturally, you ended up at the local young folk's table with your best friends, dressed up in the cutest dress you could thing you had in your wardrobe, having two bottles of eggnog and a plate of Christmas sweets in the middle. As usual, the presents were thrown into a sack, and the person who got the gift in that row had to guess from who it was.

It was great so far - Jesse brought you a whole plastic bag of plastic bottles which he was collecting the whole yeah for you, Ellie gave you a pair of socks and Dina somehow managed to get a bottle of wine for you, which was special in the town. This gift was so amazing that you told them you'll open it together once you'll all gather again. The last gift was from Diego, who spent weeks trying to figure out how to tell you his feelings. And in the end, Tommy had advised him to give you a branch of mistletoe in a Christmas card. So he did exactly that.  

Just when you were about to open the card, some rumble coming from the front part of the room made each of you turn around. Ellie, who was drunk beyond socially acceptable, started to whistle loudly when she saw Joel, who wasn't exactly sober either, bringing a guitar to the stage where the musicians were playing until Seth turned on some stereo with Carols.

Everyone changed a look of surprise about Ellie's reaction before you all shifted your attention to what was happening around. Diego was feeling more and more pressured when he watched your hand putting the card down when you leaned your back into Ellie's chest, watching her old man on the stage.

"So, as usual, my younger brother still thinks it's appropriate to make me play songs against my will. And even this year, he talked me down to play somethin' for you because he still thinks y'all enjoyin' it." - Joel told the microphone with a shy smile on his face, looking into the crowd of mostly drunk adults. Dina out both her palms in front of her lips to yell... - "Bet your damn ass we love you playing guitar!" - Making your whole table giggle like a group of high school girls.

Joel lowered his head with the hint of defeat, he was still smiling though, in his face, shaking his head in the process. - "Might not be a carol, but it is for someone here." - Joel looked into the crowd with a grin. You wouldn't suspect he's thinking about you - you'd say he means Ellie - until your gazes met for a second. So he was giving you a Christmas present even though you've been distancing from him for quite some time now... Why was Joel sometimes the sweetest guy in Jackson just to be the jackass most of the time?

Ellie, clearly bored with the old man singing for her, scoffed inside your hair, bringing you even closer than before. Joel took his time with making sure the guitar is good to go before he plucked the first chords of the song. Both you and Ellie furrowed while watching him - he played this song for neither of you so far. So you've listened to the words, while surprised smiles appeared on both of your faces.

"'Cause I'd rot in Hell with you if you'd just ask me to. I love the shitty things we do together - live with me in this sin forever. Hell and you - I know you want it too. I say take the shot, see this chance, feel the fire, and let me have this... Dance with you." - He proceeded to the refrain, having both you and Ellie sitting there with opened mouths.

"I think this song ain't for you, girl!" - Dina yelled, sending a loud whistle to Joel. This man rarely sang something different than overplayed country songs or Johnny Cash - let alone something as sexual as this was. To support the old man, almost everyone around the table clapped in rhythm, giggling at the lyrics.

"I didn't know he's seeing someone." - Ellie said and drank one cup of the eggnog at once. Diego's card was long forgotten by the time Joel was leaving the stage, shaking hands with the musicians. There were now theories about who Joel could be seeing. The person was in the room with them.

"I think it's Bobby." - Jesse looked at all of you. - "She's around Joel's age and her butt ain't bad for someone as old as she is." - The boy finished with a grin, earning a chest smack from Dina, who was laughing like crazy.

"Well, obviously, it's Francis from the kitchen. Their personalities match totally." - Dina rolled her eyes. Uh, that wasn't true - while Joel was an adorable jackass with his good and bad moments, Francis was a straightway bitch. But Ellie was shaking her head at Dina's tip. - "He needs someone who can get through the bad days with him. Francis would've murdered him on the spot. In my opinion, it's Cat from the stables. She's lovely, they both adore horses and trust me, I've seen them talking the other day... Fuck me, she's all over him." - Ellie laughed, still keeping her hand on your knee.

This topic was making you sick if you had to be honest. Sure, they were joking about who Joel can be fucking while the person sat next to them. Or... Was it you? As they spoke of it, you weren't so sure if the song was even for you. You meant a lot to Joel, but he never had told you anything to even have you an idea that you could be this important to him. But no matter how nervous it was making you, you were still laughing along with your friends, drinking maybe a bit more of eggnog than you should.

That was Diego's chance to embarrass both of you. Your friends were total dicks when they were drinking, which you knew - but the boy had to do it nonetheless, hadn't he?

You turned your head to him, feeling a smooth touch on your shoulder, just to see Diego holding the card he gave you. Oh, you've forgotten about that. He laughed nervously and opened the piece of paper, showing you the mistletoe inside of it. Your eyes widened with horror when you realized where he's getting at with giving you such a gift.

"I mean... If you don't wanna listen to tradition, we can at least dance?" - Diego asked when he saw your terrified expression. Well, this sure wasn't what he was expecting as a reaction, yet this boy wasn't giving up so easily. Another of Johnny Cash's songs was just playing - you knew that because Joel loved to sang this man's songs - when he got up and offered you a hand.

It was awfully weird when you just sat there, looking at his palm. Ellie woke you up out of the trance by pushing you closer to the boy, giving you a sick grin. So, against your will, you put your hand in his and went to the dance floor with the boy. Even such bullshit was enough to have the black-haired boy grinning when he was circling his hands around your body.

Tommy was laughing out loud about a joke Seth has said, there were legitimate tears in Joel's brother's eyes. Joel chuckled at the joke as well, leaning one of his elbows into the bar behind them. With a smile, he took one good look around the room - just to feel the smile fade away rather quickly.

Chords of the True Faith were announcing the chorus coming just when the boy leaned in to kiss you. You sure was surprised, but you were too drunk to push him away, so the only thing that remained you was to kiss him back. When the kiss was over, you could see a huge smile on Diego's face, yet his excitement met a rather stoic face confusion you had on.

For the situation to fuck, even more, you noticed another man walking directly to you. All you could do was to close your eyes and cuss under your breath. Joel was seemingly pissed - why you had at least a clue about what had pissed him off, the others would've dismissed it as his normal jackass behavior.

"Sir." - Diego greeted him in the most polite behavior possible, unable to get the happy grin off of his. The man's eyes flickered on you, on the boy's arms wrapped around your waist proudly, and then to Diegos face in the end.

"Am I interruptin' somethin' here, son?" - Joel asked, knowing damn well he was interrupting something, which put a wicked grin on his lips, and little devilish sparks into his eyes. While Diego told him a quiet 'Yes', both of the men stared at you shaking your head with horror in your face. You didn't know how many times you'll have to drop clues for Diego, telling him you're not interested in him.

"I mean, you didn't come to talk about these damn bombs Tommy had mentioned. You have a minute?" - Joel asked you directly and Diego finally let you go from his gentle grip. To not end on the bad note completely, you at least patted his shoulder before waking off with Joel, coming to the bar to get at least a beer from Seth. - "Bombs? Really? You couldn't come up with something original?" - An angry hum left your lips.

"Diego? Really?" - Joel asked you back rather mockingly, making you finally look in his face. Damn you. It was hard to tell if it's the alcohol making you both more daring than ever before, but there was some kind of shift in his expression. Did he finally realize that he's not the only one interested in you?

"You were a good boy this year." - You mumbled with a victorious smile, waiting for the old sack ball to notice you. Your relationship with Seth was more or less without complications - you hated him just as much as he hated you. It wasn't that you'd be a bad kid or whatever, but you were friends with people Seth despited with passion. Ellie and he were arguing on almost every dance, especially when she got drunk. He was one of the people who liked the traditions - young people being polite while having a normal relationship as he put it. Which meant opposite genders being attracted to each other - which, resolved in many conflicts. Especially when both of them got drunk. There were even occasions when you hat to pull Ellie away from him because she'd kick him down to a fucking ball.

Joel's grin after your statement was hilarious - he felt confident and above the situation completely. Which made you grin as well. - "How comes?" - He asked and looked around the room, bringing his bottle closer to his lips.

"Santa left you a gift." - You smiled sweetly, moving a bit closer. There was still the socially acceptable distance between you two, yet no-one could hear what you were talking about. - "The only problem with is that... You have to take the wrapping off of me before seeing it." - Oh, the reaction of the old man was priceless. He rose his eyebrows, his mood suddenly being so much that he was almost beaming though the whole room with happiness. Or something similar to it at least.

"What are you two whispering about, huh?" - The old's ballsack voice freaked you out. If he'd be there just a moment earlier, he'd hear you telling Joel Miller, the Joel Miller, to undress you. Which would've been enough to cause a scandal? With that, you gave him the sweetest smile you were capable of. - "Nothing your long nose would have to sniff about, Seth." - And that was the fakest smile in the entire history of Jackson what you gave to Seth.

"These kids." - Seth rolled his eyes in Joel's direction, leaving to get your beer. Joel just chuckled at his sigh, agreeing with the man.

"What about meetin' me in ten at the restrooms?" - Joel grunted to you, taking another swing of his beer. This took you by surprise. Sure, seeing Joel was enough of a crazy situation on its own, but you've never done anything as crazy with anyone. You had a surprised expression, for sure, but any red flags have risen as far as Joel could tell. There was also a heavy hint of excitement in your eyes, which made his wicked grin widen even more.

"But the entire concept of it's just ridiculous. It'll blow up right in your face, I tell you that, kiddo." - Joel shifted his tone entirely all of a sudden. You wouldn't even notice Ellie approaching you if he wouldn't send you a warning.

"Heard you're keeping her hostage here." - Ellie got out of her lips and straightened to look even scarier. Oh, your poor baby. She'd do anything to keep you from getting harmed. Especially on Christmas night like that one. - "So I came here to save her." - She looked right to Joel's face with an ice-cold look. You decided to play along, scoffing at the last remark. Just when Seth gave you your beer, you took at and entwined your elbow with Ellie's.

"You don't know shit about my work, so stop inserting yourself in, yeah?" - You told Joel, turning your face to him. Quicky, you mouthed 'ten' before you let Ellie drag you along. The man hid another smirk to the beer, wondering about how impossible you could be.

"Was he laying into you a lot?" - The girls asked you on your way to the table. You shook your head with a furrow, thinking about what was happening at the bar. You were overenjoyed and very excited, looking at the clock to count down each minute. You figured out that it will be the best to pretend you want to puke - it'll give you some time and no-one will come to check on you since you puked on dances all the time.

"No, he was quite okay. It just gets repetitive." - You answered with a small smile, rolling your eyes.

"Just don't let him ruin your night, girl." - She pulled you even closer, giving you a small smile. Diego was looking like a lovesick puppy when you appeared out of the crowd. He smiled almost immediately, leaning towards you. How was just not giving up, was he? Jesus Christ. What should you tell him? Nervously, you just smiled back and nodded at the boy, but you sat far away from the boy as possible at the table.

"So, was he acting weird? Maybe looking at someone? A lot? Was he searching for his girl? You noticed something?" - Dina leaned close to you, looking you in the eyes. Well, what should you say? The only person he had his eyes on was you. The whole time. It didn't seem that he was singing for someone else, but you still couldn't be quite sure. For a moment, you pretended to think about that before you shook your head.

"Why are you so curious about that, Dina? I am your man." - The black-haired boy sitting next to one of your best friends chuckled. Dina spared Jesse a furrow before giggling and taking a sip of the eggnog.

"Because it's Joel damned Miller. He lives here for the last five years and I have never seen him talking to a woman... With romantic intentions. Have you seen that?" - Dina winked at him, making a total douche out of Jesse. Both you and Ellie were grinning on the other side. Normally, Ellie wasn't taking sides in conversations involving Joel, but she was so drunk she was grinning next to you.

Suddenly, you let out a long sigh and you put your hand on your stomach. - "Oh, and it's here." - Ellie noted, helping you on your legs. See? Everyone was just waiting until you throw up. Once you'd throw up, the night was most likely over. But Diego had stood up as well, catching your waist in the process.

"What the fuck are you doing?" - You stopped. The look you gave him was so cold that his palm immediately flew back to his side. - "I supposed you'd need some help." - The boy whispered, licking his lips as he watched you. Until that moment, everyone thought that you're a thing, especially when he kissed you on the damned dancefloor. But as soon as you answered him, everyone understood that you're not the case. Jesse also thought about pulling the dude back on his chair for a minute. - "You supposed fucking wrong, then."

Everyone sitting at the table watched you disappear in the crowd. Diego's expression was full of sadness and surprise as he sat down, and there was a weird silence ever since you left for the restrooms. No-one was looking at you and even though, there was this thought implanted to your head that someone out there is watching every mood you made.

The whole time and party seemed to slow down as you walked around Tommy, Maria, and Joel. It almost appeared that the man isn't watching every step you took, but you saw his eyes flickered in your direction when you walked to the back part of the building. Jesus, you weren't that excited in years. Literal years. You could hear the muted music when you looked into each of the four restrooms to see if they're empty. And for the love of God, you had your lucky day.

There wasn't much talking anyway. Just straight off the bat, when Joel opened up the door and there was this small moment of silence when you just watched the man - you missed gripping the too-long hair, the feeling when the beard was scratching your skin... And these shoulders. This man was one damn multipack. When you were done with taking the view, you leaned in to pull on his palm, dragging him into the cabin which was the further from the door.

His shoulder probably hit the doorframe, but you were too lost in the kiss to even notice it. And he was probably lost in it as well. Before pulling his brown leather jacket off, you made sure that the door is locked. Quickly, you pulled the jacket off him, his shirt following after that. Meanwhile, the man was looking at your dress with clear confusion.

"Aren't you cold in this?" - He asked, making you giggle before answering something. - "I suppose you're about to make me feel warm, arent you?" - That was it. No matter how much was Joel amused with you, he covered up your mouth as you still giggled into his skin. - "You need to be real quiet now, baby girl."

That made you shut up for a few seconds. Sure, he called you girl before, but being called a baby girl? What was that? Didn't he tell you that he does only 'no strings attached things'? Without hesitation, you nodded to assure him that you're gonna be a good one. It didn't last too long tho - the man got on his knees quickly, slowly raising the skirt of your dress up.

"What are you doing, Joel?" - A question flew out of you as you watched his palms smoothing your thighs. Jesus, this man was sure a masterpiece in so many regards. With a long sigh, the man got back upon his legs, tugging his t-shirt off. Oh fuck. This situation was getting serious - first, he called you baby girl and now, he took his t-shirt off. This was the first time he had done something like that. Immediately, you could see why he wasn't taking it off during your sessions - there was this big, thick scar on his right hip which was not too good-looking.

"Open up for me, come on." - The man said, looking on your lips. So, like the good girl you were, you opened your mouth - just for Joel to put his t-shirt between your lips as a form of a gag there. And it almost made you gag when you felt the fabric on your tongue. - "Keep it in. Soon, you won't even know it's there. I swear."

When that was said, Joel got back on his knees, starting over. This time, the man was taking his time. It wasn't just a bathroom quickie, as you expected, it was as a full-blown making love session when you watched his lips kiss a trail on your thigh, continuing over your hip, up to your shoulder just to take the dress off of you. For a moment, the man leaned his back into the wall opposite of you, playing with your dress between his palms. Jesus, that nasty grin was killing you.

"I sure as hell was a good boy this year, huh?" - He whispered with that typical raspy voice since his vocal cords were already giving up at the sight of you. Every damn time he saw you naked, he just suddenly lost his voice. More like he lost his mind every fucking time you undressed - just like that, it just happened. Before you had the time to answer, he was on his knees again, both of his palms holding your waist in one place. It took you a while to process the sight - and when your drunk brain finally clicked with the connections, you just stared at him, entwining your fingers to the locks of his hair.

No-one, and I mean no-one, ever had taken your underwear off with their teeth. Joel was gripping his teeth into one side of the thing, skillfully tugging it down. If Dina would've told you that Jesse was doing this to her, you'd most likely piss yourself, because it was just silly to imagine that. But Joel getting on his knees to do that shit? Holy motherfucking God. It almost felt as if you hadn't been even living until that moment.

The man didn't lose any time over staring at you with hungry eyes - he went down on you as soon as your panties were taken off enough. It never felt better with the man. Let you explain - he knew what he was doing every time he went down on you or when he was showing you something new. He knew how to make you relaxed and you were trusting him enough to tell him to stop when you weren't feeling it. But this night was different - the names, the t-shirt, Joel was acting somehow different. And it was making you feel really good.

"Hey?" - Someone asked into the muffled sighs which were almost unbearable. You almost took the t-shirt down, just to see the man looking your right in the eyes while still eating you out, shaking his head. So you bent your head until it rested on the wall and carefully put your hand on the door to ensure the girl won't open them even though they were locked already. With that, you also pulled your other palm.

As the girl did what she needed to do, a thought crossed your mind, which made you grin. You had Joel being as obedient as a fucking dog - he was on his knees, quietly and slowly working on his masterpiece as he slowly caressed your skin. That put just a grin on your lips. Yet just when the girl left, the man pulled away, making you look at him.

"Lean into the door, baby girl." - Oh, you loved it when he was direct with you like that. Without hesitation, you did what he wanted you to do, leaning your palms into the cold wood, showing him your whole ass. Joel knew he has to control himself, but that didn't stop him from giving you one good spank after he took his dick out, finally sinking into you. Just as his t-shirt was keeping your moan down, you heard the typical soft grunt he did every time he slipped inside for the first time. You've never heard something as sexy as that, you'd say. The first few moves were just lustful - his palms gripped both your breast to take them out of your bra, first few moves were so hasty it made the wood under you shake. Just when you were rolling your eyes, both of you started to pay attention to the shrieking of the main door leading to the restrooms.

"Y/N? Are you here?" - A voice asked, making your eyes widen as Joel skillfully rolled his lips. The person behind the door was Diego, which made him make such moves with his pelvis that you began to shake. Horrified expression appeared on your face when you felt Joel's palm tugging the t-shirt from your mouth. His daring expression told you to answer the boy.

"Y-yeah. What do you need?" - You answered with your eyes closed, making Joel grin when he started to feel your body slowly hammering against his. All you was capable of was to think about that D making you feel so good you'd scream if you could, making you mouth 'oh my motherfucking God' breathlessly. Miller was stating one thing with this - the boy will never see you as he did. Because no other man knew you the way Joel did.

"I was just checking up on you. You're here at least ten minutes already." - The boy came to the cab you two were at, making Joel stop with any movements he was doing so he wouldn't hear the man there. But if you'd have thought that would mean that hed let you be, you were wrong. The fucking man buried himself as deep as he could, putting his palm between your thighs. Which made you roll your eyes again. - "You want me to hold your hair?" - Diego asked shyly. Only if he would have any idea what was happening behind the closed door.

"No, I'm fine. You can go." - You got out somehow with stuttering, biting your lip at Joel's movements.

"Really? You don't sound fine to me." - The boy asked with worried. Just as a moan came to your mouth, you coughed loudly to cover it up.

"Just get fucking lost, Diego. Stop pretending you're my boyfriend." - Well, now it was as clear as a summer day that you are not into him. And Diego was just standing there for a while, being hurt with your word. You could be nicer, that was true, but you had to tell him already. Especially when Joel was blowing your back out the way he did.

"Sure... I'll tell Ellie to wait for you... Outside." - The black-haired boy gulped loudly, rushing out of the room at the speed of the light. Fucking finally. This time, Joel didn't even bother with covering your mouth with the t-shirt, he just pressed his palm on your lips, finishing you both as quickly as possible. You couldn't almost walk nonetheless.

"Will you come tonight, baby girl?" - Joel asked from buttoning his shirt and putting his jacket on. You smiled and wiped his beard clean from your juices. - "But I don't think that I can take another round after this, okay?" - You whispered, tiptoeing to kiss him. You were looking like a fucking mess - your hair was all over the place, your cheeks were on fire and Joel would even tell that you smell like freshly fucked girl. - "Fine. We can have some coffee and tea while watchin' some dumb Christmas comedy." - The man leaned down to kiss your forehead before giving your ass one last slap as you left the cabin.

He left five minutes after you so you wouldn't be that suspicious. Sure, Joel's mood was suddenly a million times better than before he left for the restrooms, but Tommy was too drunk to notice the obvious signs of being freshly fucked.

Ellie was waiting for you in front of the hall, already having your jacket prepared to dress you up, your presents were inside a bag. Since you saw her face, you knew something was wrong. Something was bothering her. - "Okay, what are you thinking about?" - You interrupted her, making the green-eyes girl looking at you.

"You want the first thing or the second thing?" - She teased you back, having you grin at the question. - "I can handle both." - You assured her, slowly walking through the snow while entwining your elbow with hers.

"You didn't have to be so hard with Diego. This boy didn't exactly choose to fall in love with you." - Ellie told you quietly. So he'd told her. Or your harsh answers made him look so bad that he was a little cry baby. Your eyes rolled on their own. - "Just talk it out. Tell him you're sorry and that you're not interested. And if he doesn't realize he's acting like a fucker even after you gently tell him, I'll beat the shit out of him."

"Okay, I will do that, miss. And now tell me about the Joel thing." - You have risen your eyebrows, giving Ellie one of those knowing looks. You caught her off guard. She didn't tell you it's about Joel, yet somehow, you knew. You were her best friend for real, even reading her mind and shit.

"I mean, I know I'm not talking to him... But... He would tell me. I think. That he's seeing someone. Even if I don't greet him, he always tells me everything, just like back then." - Ellie sighed, being confused with the whole 'Joel is dating' situation. - "I just hope he knows what he's doing and that the girl isn't just some bitch who doesn't even love him." - This was the sweetest thing you heard that day. They weren't talking and even though Ellie pretended to hate him, he was worried about his love life. You couldn't tell her that you're the one he's spending nights with, or at least you hoped so, but you snuggled her shoulder and sighed lightly instead of telling her not to worry.

"Wanna build a snowman?" - You asked, giving her a big smile. It was fun - and when you were sure Ellie had gone home for real, you changed into a comfy sweater and sweatpants, leaving for Joel's house. The man prepared the living room, made you a hot cup of tea - with honey, which was special - and turned on the movie. Since you were both drunk, you didn't realize you fell asleep, snuggled up under one blanket.

When you were walking home at six a.m., you almost flipped when Dina was running in your direction. She was looking confused and she sure as hell was crying just a while before. You ran to her to meet her in the middle, catching both of her shoulders. - "What happened, Dina?  What is it, baby?" - You asked with worries.

"It's... It's Eugene. He had a heart attack." - She stuttered out and started crying again. With that, you hugged her and closed your eyes as you tried not to cry.

[thetriggeredhappy]

How about #18 for Speeding Bullet? Only if you want, of course!

hell yeah i want to, dude!!

(minor tw: canon-typical violence sort of stuff. nothing gratuitous, just worth mentioning. this is basically just pg-13)

18.) “That was kind of hot.”

The worst thing about the match being caught in a stalemate was the energy of it. Being trapped in that strange place between fighting and resting, between alertness and relative relaxation. The fact that it made the day drag on longer was no good, and the looming fear that any moment something would change and they would lose was also no fun, but really, the feeling of being a coiled spring just waiting for the action to start back up, weapons all reloaded and wounds all patched and healed, knowing the if but waiting on the when, it was awful.

Sniper in particular was fairly irritated about them, mostly because generally during stalemates, he would be tormented by the enemy Spy, who seemed to get bored extremely quickly. That left Sniper with an additional layer of tension going on, with the only real measure he could take to try and not get backstabbed a few dozen times in a row to be changing nests fairly frequently, which left him only a little less frazzled.

He’d only just sat down in the barn that made up the outskirts of the current battlefield when he got lucky enough to hear the telltale sound of a dispersing cloak and a knife flipping open.

No. Absolutely not. The bastard had killed him four times in the past twenty minutes. He would not get a fifth.

In the space of a moment he’d leapt to his feet, seized his knife and spun around with a snarl, a vicious swing going a long way to make the Spy reel backwards and to buy Sniper a moment to get bearings on where he was and where he might move next.

The Spy’s next move was to back up and glance for the nearest door or window, but no, he would not be getting away, not after being such a bastard. Sniper darted forward, feigning a swing at his kneecaps only to instead thrust upwards, knife sliding cleanly up into the Spy’s ribcage.

“Why don’t you go ahead and stay dead for a while?” Sniper snarled, and yanked the knife out, and kicked him to the ground.

Relative silence for the three seconds it took for the Spy to stop struggling on the ground. Full silence for the five seconds it took before Respawn pulled the corpse away.

“That was kind of hot,” chirped a voice from up above him, and Sniper nearly had a heart attack.

He glanced up, and there, looking down at him, lying in the rafters that supported the loft with a hand propping up his chin and a grin on his face, was Scout.

“How the hell’d you get there?” Sniper asked, trying to shake off his alarm.

“I’ve been up here, man. I was up here before you showed up and went all one-liner action hero. I was asleep.” Indeed there was a layer of laziness to the way Scout spoke and moved, usually reserved for shortly after the team woke up in the morning or for late, late at night.

Sniper exhaled, relaxing minutely, moving to wipe his knife off and pick back up his gun, glancing it over to see if it’d been damaged when he dropped it. “I’m not gonna ask why you were up napping in the rafters instead of out doing your job,” he said dryly.

“What job?” Scout scoffed. “It’s a stalemate.”

“There’s still bastards that need killin’. That means you’ve still got a job to do,” Sniper said firmly.

“Yeah, plenty’s guys around to fight,” Scout said sarcastically. He pulled his pistol from the waistband of his pants, aiming it at make-believe enemies. “Pew, pew. Really givin’ me a workout. Pew, pew-pew. C’mon Snipes, I need backup here against all the just, the waves of guys attackin’ us right now.”

“I get it,” Sniper said flatly.

“Just the crazy amount of dudes currently attackin’ is that I’m supposed to be stoppin’. Because you told me to do my job.”

“I get it, Scout.”

“Just the absolutely bonkers number of totally real people I’m totally in combat with right exactly now, this like, action hero movie’s worth of enemies. With like, me being the protagonist. Just that many guys.”

“Scout, I get it.”

“And you’re just like, sittin’ around lookin’ pretty while I’m doin’ all the work here. Shittiest love interest ever, in this, the movie where a bunch of guys attack us.”

Sniper shot Scout a glare, then went to start adjusting his scope.

“Hey, but y’know what’s weird, though?” Scout asked, voice perking up as he changed subjects abruptly.

“What?”

“How you always just like, glare at me or don’t respond when I say flirty stuff like that, instead’a tellin’ me to knock it off.”

Sniper turned his head to glare again, not speaking.

“I mean, sometimes you say stuff like “Oi, bugger, go away, I’m concentrating” or “Bloody hell, can this conversation wait, piss” or somethin’, but you never tell me to actually stop.” Scout tilted his head just to one side. “What’s that all about?”

“I don’t sound like that,” Sniper grumbled.

“See, even now when you’re all pissed off for some reason, you’re still not telling me to quit. You’re just changing the subject. I just thought that was kinda funny, y’know?”

“Hilarious,” Sniper drawled.

Scout sat up, and dropped down to hang from the rafter he’d been perched on, swinging once and dropping to the ground. For a brief moment Sniper was convinced he was about to watch Scout break both his legs, but Scout dropped into a roll and ended up back on his feet again, brushing hay from himself, otherwise unscathed.

And then he was walking up towards Sniper, crowding into his space. Sniper took a step back instinctively, and Scout took two forward. Sniper’s back collided with the wall, and then Scout was stood practically on his toes, looking up at him with that same curiosity, that same half-grin. Sniper’s pulse pounded in his ears.

“So what’s the deal, then?” Scout asked with a surprising amount of neutrality, eyes flickering to give him an up-and-down. “Is it that you’re… scared of me, or something? Is that it?”

“Of course not,” Sniper half-scoffed, glancing away, only to have his credibility instantly put into question as he jumped at the feeling of Scout fiddling with his vest’s zipper.

“Funny way of showin’ it,” Scout commented in turn.

“Look, this just isn’t something that…” Sniper managed to stamp down a shiver before it could roll through him at the feeling of Scout’s right hand moving from fiddling with his vest to instead slide to rest under it. “…That coworkers should do, particularly in our line of business.”

“What, you don’t trust me?” Scout pouted, nonetheless keeping his hand on Sniper’s waist, his left one moving to mess with the bullets Sniper kept stocked in his breast pocket.

“S’not that,” Sniper gritted out, looking away entirely to stare out over Scout’s shoulder, trying to ignore how nice all this contact felt. Admittedly, it wasn’t something that happened to him often outside the context of battle. “It’s just… not very professional.”

“So we keep this quiet,” Scout shrugged, tilting his head to try and goad Sniper into looking at him again. “I ain’t askin’ for some whole big thing, roses an’ chocolates an’ all that. Not unless you’re about that. I just wanted to… y’know, try somethin’ out. See if we’d work.”

“If we’d work?” Sniper echoed, eyebrows drawing together, still not quite able to meet Scout’s eyes.

“Yeah. I mean, I’m pretty bored, talkin’ with you is almost always pretty fun, and you’re just pretty. Figured we could work somethin’ out. But then you went an’ started playin’ some game where you didn’t give me a straight answer or anythin’ to go on even though it was pretty damn clear I was hitting on you.”

Sniper’s jaw tightened.

Scout’s subtle motions stopped for a second, presumably as Scout considered him. “Look, I’m not gonna like, force the issue, here. You tell me you don’t want nothin’ to do with this, I’ll leave you alone. Won’t even be mad, just like, a little disappointed. Because I’m serious. Cards on the table? I really wanna try this. But this definitely isn’t gonna work unless you show up voluntarily. So you tell me straight up, “Get away”, and I’ll walk away and I won’t ever bug you again like this. I’ll cut it out with the makin’ passes at you and we’ll both get outta here like none’a this ever happened. That’s all you’ve gotta say, is “Get away”. And I will.”

“Fine. Get—“ Sniper started, eyes locking on Scout’s again, only to pause.

Scout’s expression was something Sniper had never seen on him before. A bit serious, largely earnest. There was hope pretty clearly written across his features, and the whole pretense of smugness was gone. He wasn’t playing around, he was making a very honest, open offer.

Sniper’s breath caught in his throat. “Get…” he tried again, because he’d meant it, this wasn’t something coworkers should do. He was a professional, he had standards for himself, standards that pretty clearly meant not doing this sort of thing with any of his teammates. And besides that, Sniper really wasn’t in a position where he should be… dating, or whatever else Scout planned to propose. And he’d never even been any good at dating back in the past, and he wasn’t sure if he’d even enjoy it. But both of Scout’s hands had migrated to his waist beneath his vest, and stroked over his sides with a surprising and uncharacteristic gentleness. Like Scout was waiting for that second word. Like he was almost sure it was going to come, any moment, and Sniper’s voice caught.

Scout looked at him. He looked at Scout.

Then his eyes flicked up, and widened slightly.

In the space of a moment, he’d seized the pistol from Scout’s waistband, firing one, two three shots off towards the doorway. The first pinged off the wood, but the second two connected, one with an invisible chest, the other with an invisible forehead.

Scout half-turned, eyebrows raised, to regard the Spy that slumped to the ground just inside the barn, and the way it disappeared after a second. “Nice shot,” he commented, voice appraising. “How’d you catch that?”

“Saw the hay on the ground move,” Sniper replied, hands falling to tuck the pistol back where Scout put it, only to linger there for another few moments.

Scout hummed. Silence between them for a few seconds before Scout turned to look back at him again. He didn’t speak, just looked up at Sniper, displaying an amount of restraint just then.

Sniper finally let out a sigh, shoulders sagging, pulling Scout in a half-step closer. “Y’know what? To hell with it. Fine.”

Scout perked up immediately, lighting up like a firework show. “Really? You mean it?” he asked, his smile stretching across his face wide and unabashed.

“Yeah. Not like I’ve got any real reason to say no. You’re not so bad,” he managed to joke, his own face making a valiant attempt at a smile.

Scout laughed, and the pressure of his hands increased as he leaned into Sniper a bit, positively glowing. “Yeah. Not so bad.”

[sirkkasnow]

06 Sleep With One Eye Open

Ao3 link

07/12/13-07/13/13 Friday - Saturday

There was no rest whatsoever, much less for the wicked, that night.

“Ford. For cryin’ out loud. I feel fine. She feels fine. Just let us go to sleep.” Stan nudged away the glass of water in front of him, chin propped in a cupped hand, supported in turn by the elbow propped on the kitchen table. He and Clary had changed into dry clothes and managed to get down a sandwich apiece, accompanied by fanciful flower-cut carrot slices, before Ford started hovering over them both like a broody hen.

“He’s got a point.” Clary was nursing her own glass of water - caffeine was forbidden for the time being. “There was a shockwave. We might be concussed. I don’t feel concussed, but that doesn’t mean we didn’t sustain some injury.”

“I’ve started analyzing that sample vial you brought, Stanley, and the dust has got at least a minor soporific component. You’re going to have to stay up all night for observation.” Both Stan and Clary groaned in protest, her head dipping to rest on her forearm.

“Can’t you wake us up every two hours?” she pleaded.

“I should take you to the hospital.” More groans. “My upstairs study isn’t too cluttered. We’ll set you two up on the couch, I’ll keep an eye on you for the night, and I can probably allow each of you to nap for an hour or so at a time. That’s the best I can do.”

“You’re not gonna give either of us a moment’s peace otherwise, are you.”

“No.” Ford folded his arms and frowned down at them both. “Go on, go get pillows. You can finish giving me the details about your encounter today.”

Clary shot Stan a fleeting, resigned smile, swallowed a long gulp of water and pushed back from the table. “See you in a few minutes.”

They reconvened at the study, the space cluttered as ever if less dusty. Clary rubbed her eyes as she looked around, tossing pillows and blankets on the couch and taking an armload of books off Ford’s hands. “How’s this going to work?”

“Short naps. I’ll wake you up every hour or so to check the pupils and ask some of the usual questions. Coherence checks, really.”

“Yeah, we might as well stay as awake as we can.” Stan finished locking in the legs of a card table in one corner and hauled up three mismatched chairs, then plunked a battery lantern in the middle. “Sixer, can she crash for a while? She did all the hard work out there today.”

“You’re no lightweight, Stan, but you are the one who got a snootful of glitter.”

“I did not. Just a little dusty.”

Clary dropped the books off at the foot of the filing cabinet, dragged a chair out with her heel and settled into it with a sigh. “Serious question, you two.” She reached out to flick on the lantern, getting little more out of it than a wan circle of pale yellow light on the table’s surface. “Are we going to talk about the fact that we were running for our lives from champagne bubbles of explosive death this afternoon?”

An awkward silence hung on the air. She blinked, sleepy and implacable, at Stan and then at Ford.

“I’m fairly sure it wouldn’t have killed you,” Ford said at length, squaring up a stack of books that Stan knew for certain had been crooked for years. “I’ll know better when I head out tomorrow to document the aftermath. Turned you into shambling crystalline abominations, maybe.” He paused, lifting his head with a faint frown. “Perhaps we should do the cinnamon-and-formaldehyde treatment. Just in case.”

“No,” said Clary and Stan in unison.

“It’s just a thought.”

Stan rummaged a deck of cards out of a drawer. “Like I said. Gravity Falls is weird. S’what got him out here in the first place.” He nodded to Ford as he dropped into the chair opposite Clary and began to absentmindedly shuffle. “If this changes things, offer still stands, we’ll rent you somethin’ to get you to Portland or whatever.” He meant it in all sincerity but let the cards snap together with a tiny bit more vehemence on the next pass. “If you’re gonna stay, though, stayin’ with us is the safest option, no doubt.”

She smiled a little, watching his hands. “Are you warning me that things could get even weirder?”

“‘Course not. Simply statin’ the facts.”

For a little while the soft slap-and-clatter of the deck was the only sound.

“I think,” Clary finally said, “that I’m still all right with staying until the car’s fixed. I want to be included as you’re analyzing that stuff, Ford. And if there’s anything else I ought to know about, I expect to be in the loop.”

“You’re not going to dismiss all of this as hallucinations from heat exhaustion or the like, then?” Ford kept his tone level, but Stan could hear the hopeful note in it.

She laid a hand over her brow and peeked up at Ford through splayed fingers. “I believe in evidence. I’m not so stubborn that I can’t accept what I’ve personally experienced. And I promise you, I was coherent through all of that mayhem.”

A quick, pleased smile plucked at a corner of Ford’s mouth. “Fair enough.” He took the third chair, setting down a notebook, a penlight, one of his favorite pens and Clary’s action camera. “If you’re not going to sleep right away, let’s review your afternoon. I know what your routes looked like, so it won’t be hard to track down the sites….”

Stan dealt himself a hand of solitaire and mostly listened, interjecting now and then when he could clarify a point. Ford had always been a thorough interrogator and Clary was a good witness, offering a clear timeline and careful descriptions which Ford kept cross-checking against her shaky video.

She was yawning more than she was talking by the time he was done. “Eyes,” said Ford, and Clary winced as he checked each pupil. “Sleep. I’ll get you up for another check in an hour or two.”

“Yes, Doctor Pines.” She shuffled over to the couch and stretched out under a blanket. Within two minutes her breathing went deep and even. Ford turned to Stan with bright, undimmed interest, and he gathered up the cards with a sigh.

“Okay, go on, pick my brain, but you’ve already got most of it.”

He lost track of time almost immediately once Ford let him get a quick snooze. The wee hours dragged by with alternating moments of consciousness and too-brief sleep interrupted by stupid questions.

“What’s the capital of South Dakota?” Ford asked somewhere around three-thirty.

Stan squinted up at Ford, rubbing at watering eyes. “Who cares?”

“I’ll take that as a correct answer.” One thumb tilted over towards the couch, where Clary was down for another shift. Ford’s voice lowered. “What’s your take on her?”

That was a more interesting question. Stan leaned back in his chair enough to make it creak. “What d’you mean? She’s sharp, sure, she’s been better company than I thought she’d be.”

“She didn’t panic today, and she’s taking the local weirdness in stride. Which of course might mean she’s a federal agent.”

Stan shook his head fractionally. “Gettin’ your magnet gun to malfunction at just the right moment would’ve been a neat trick. No, there’s a couple things she doesn’t wanna talk about, but not that.” He glanced over to Clary. “She’s still wearin’ her neckerchief.”

“I’m wearing turtlenecks in July. I’m sure she has her reasons. In any event, she’s quite adaptable, and we could use a lawyer - “

“No, no, no - “ Stan flapped a hand at Ford in frustration, struggling to keep his voice down. “What in the hell do we need a lawyer for?”

“You’re still legally dead, Stanley. I wouldn’t mind being able to fly again.”

“She’s a tax specialist!”

“She’s an experienced attorney, and don’t you think trustworthiness should trump everything else?” Stan glared. Ford sat back, fingertips tapping in sequence along the penlight’s barrel. “We’re not going to be out on that boat forever, you know.”

That shut him up, as Ford knew perfectly well it would. Stan tipped his tired head back and gnawed on his lower lip for a while. “When did the world get so damn small?” he muttered, a question that neither of them needed or much wanted an answer for.

Eventually Ford rose, nudging Clary awake with a careful hand on her shoulder to run her through another series of questions. “Pierre or Bismarck,” she murmured blearily, “I can’t remember which. What time is it?”

There were three clocks in immediate eyeshot, all of which read something different. Ford checked his watch. “Five fifteen.”

“Almost morning. Fantastic.” A faint glimmer of pre-dawn light was beginning to tint the sky, the room’s multicolored window marginally less dead-black than it had been. Clary pushed herself upright with a groan and shambled over to the card table. “Deal something out, Stan, we might as well stay up until breakfast.”

“I should keep checking on you until at least noon after that, but I can let you get a few hours in a row. You both seem to be fine.” Ford made himself at home in the third chair. Stan squared the deck, shuffled a couple of times, fished out the two of diamonds and dealt the rest out in three piles.

Stan felt himself fidgeting after two quick and uneventful hands. Sheer fatigue was wearing down his usually uncrackable poker face. The other two were unreadable anyway as the room slowly filled with the faint light of early morning, the lantern’s dim circle overwhelmed until Ford shut it off. Clary scooped up the cards of the current trick and stifled yet another yawn with the back of her hand. “At this rate none of us are gonna manage to come out ahead.”

“Well, we’re more or less evenly matched.” Ford set his fanned cards facedown, checked his watch again and jotted a note. “Eyes, Clary.”

She sighed and obligingly let Ford take her chin in his fingertips, angling her head so he could check each pupil with his penlight. “Of course we’re evenly matched. All three of us have been counting cards.”

Stan snorted in disbelief and slapped his cards on the table. Ford’s laugh was lower and rustier than usual - even he was starting to wear down. “You too? Really, Clary? Really? I expect that kinda crap from my own brother!”

“I majored in math, man, I specialized in statistics and data analysis. Of course I’m counting cards. You’re the one hellbent on cheating at hearts.”

They bickered for most of another hour as the stained glass went translucent and jewel-bright. Stan tried out a half dozen variations, trying to find some way to outfox the others, but anything they couldn’t count cards on he couldn’t count cards on, and he didn’t have the sleeves to hide anything. Clary kicked him in the shin after one particularly egregious attempt, the blow softened by her floppy sock and her low husky laughter. She left her foot resting against his slippered one which was all right he supposed.

Stan was showing off a couple of the simpler card-cutting tricks when the doorknob rattled, then turned, the door creaking open to reveal a startled Dipper and Mabel. All five stared at each other in confused silence.

Mabel clapped both hands to her face. “You had a slumber party and you didn’t tell us?!”

“Not quite a slumber party, I had to make sure they were both all right - “ Ford clambered to his feet, pink with embarrassment. Mabel pointed in accusation at the rumpled blankets and pillows on the couch.

“You three were up all night! Come on, Grunkle Stan, Grunkle Ford, you have to let me host one now.”

That set off a quiet but intense argument. Mabel was doing a fine job of mustering a logical case in favor. Clary set down her cards, rubbed her eyes and curled a tired smile for Dipper at the doorway. “Breakfast?” She nudged Stan’s foot with a toe. “Make me a couple of pancakes, would you? I think I’ve earned those.”

“Deal, kid. Think we both have.”

tumblr: [00][01][02][03][04][05][06][07][08][09][10][11][12]

Ao3: [00][01][02][03][04][05][06][07][08][09][10][11][12]

“Are we going to talk about the explosions?” Clary looks tired, but determined.

I’m pretty sure we were both seeing things.

Methane. It’s always methane.

Gravity Falls really is that weird.

[nyotasaimiri]

Patchwork

The sheer diversity of people took Nyota’s breath away as she stepped out of the teleportation booth. Lumen had warned her, of course. It’s called Patchwork ‘cause it is one, see? All sorts of folks stitched right in together.

But hearing and experiencing were two different things entirely. The vast majority of the crowd was hylotl, all comfortably at ease in the seaside tele-port. There were quite a number of floran around too, many of them hawking snacks and souvenirs for tourists. A handful of avians and glitch wandered around, some clearly gawking and others intent on their business. Nyota even spotted a rather pretty purple novakid talking to a massively tall, similarly-colored apex. And here and there, scattered in the crowd—

“Humans,” Nyota murmured. Not the tired, frightened refugees she and her crew had met on the planet where they recruited Arrowmail, months ago, but laughing, talking, normal, thriving humans, like she hadn’t seen since—since Earth.

“It’s so busy,” Oldarva whispered, staring wide-eyed around them and snapping Nyota out of her daze. “I’ve never seen so many people in one place before.”

“It was even busier back h—Back on Earth,” Nyota said. Home caught in her throat. “Stay close to me and Lumen. I don’t want you getting lost.”

“That would be very easy here,” Oldarva agreed. They could both see the city sprawled out below the port: a wide dock off to their right and glass-roofed buildings below the water, skyscrapers and broad, orderly streets to the left. She hesitated. “Ah… Where is Lumen?”

“Right here, don’t ya fret.” The novakid hurried over, boots making surprisingly little noise on the metal walkway, even considering the bustle of the crowd to muffle them.

Nyota accepted one of the colored cards he offered her. Hers was red, like Oldarva’s. Lumen’s was a bright yellow, barely visible before he tucked it away in his vest pocket. “What is this?”

Lumen tapped the writing on the face of the card. “It’s a visitor’s pass. Marks ya as safe from any of the trouble I mentioned. Mine’s yellow ‘cause this ain’t my first time here. Sure, it’s been a few decades, but they keep good records here. I’d have a blue one if I was a regular.”

Nyota turned her card over. “Certainly the nuanced system they have,” she said, studying it. She had to look away from the cramped Hylotl lettering after a moment. It made her head spin; she recognized what little she managed to glimpse as the words for ‘guest’ and ‘temporary’. “No further identification necessary?”

“None but what ya bring anyhow,” Lumen hummed, indicating her Matter Manipulator, or rather, where she had hidden it. Nyota wasn’t willing to openly declare her status as a member of the Protectorate on an unfamiliar planet, not where her affiliation might bring trouble to those accompanying her.

“So little?” Oldarva’s eyes widened at the idea.

“Few cities are even remotely as controlled as our hometowns,” Nyota told her, putting a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “It’s… alarming, I admit, but you get used to it.”

“That’s reassuring…” Eldie was clearly not reassured.

Nyota chuckled and patted her shoulder again. “It will be fine. Let’s go.”

-

It really did feel like Earth.

That was the first and strongest thought in Nyota’s head as she and her crewmates entered the crowded streets. The tall buildings reminded her so much of the area around the Protectorate, with glass skywalks stretching between them to give the occupants a safe alternative to crossing the street. An old library sent a deep pang of loss through her chest. Even though this one was sandwiched between two high-rises instead of on a row with other lower, cozy buildings, it reminded her—

“Somethin’ up, Captain?”

Nyota blinked and glanced over at Lumen. He wasn’t where she remembered. He and Oldarva were a few steps ahead, watching her quizzically. “Ya stopped dead in yer tracks. That ain’t like ya,” Lumen explained almost apologetically.

“It’s nothing—” Nyota started to say, then glared at both of them as Lumen passed Oldarva a few pixels. The novakid flickered in the equivalent of a cheery wink.

“Just settlin’ a bet. Carry on, ma’am.”

“…as I was saying,” Nyota continued, tone sharp, “it is nothing of importance. This library just… reminds me of somewhere I knew on Earth.”

Lumen and Oldarva shared another quick glance, a much deeper one. “How so?” Eldie asked.

Nyota looked up at the sign. “My friend Marcy, her family owned and operated a library much like this one once. I spent quite a bit of my first year working for them. …well, almost living in the shelves at first, to escape the summer heat. Marcy’s father offered me employment when he realized I didn’t have a job.”

Lumen looked between Oldarva’s confusion and the fond smile that gently creased Nyota’s face. “Ain’t no harm in stoppin’ in to look,” he said slowly. When Nyota turned toward him, frowning, he warmed and brightened in his own smile. “We ain’t on a tight schedule anymore. No universe needs savin’. Go on.”

[heauxkyu]

ooh for the writing prompt! sprace; 65 or 79?

Hi lovely anon! Sorry this took me so incredibly long to write. I had to restart so many times. I’m so out of practice and this is probably super bad (grammatically it’s a disaster), but at least it’s DONE! I hope anyone who reads it enjoys it. ALSO IM SORRY IT GOT SO LONG I JUST RAMBLED FOREVER

65. “Look at me— just breathe, okay?”

~~~~~~~~~~

“Get back here, you rat!” A booming voice called out to Race’s retreating figure as he sprinted as fast as he could away from the dimly lit alley way.

What had started out as an innocent game of cards on the streets of Brooklyn had soon led to Racetrack being cornered by the four huge men he had foolishly decided to gamble against. The young newsie had thought he knew their type. Each was slightly overweight and a little drunk, all with dark eyes and intimidating features but with little to no brain cells. They should have been easy targets to steal a few cents from, and Race had not been expecting the backlash he received after winning the fifth consecutive game in a row, shooting the men a grin and collecting his winnings.

“Up for another round, fellas?” He had asked smugly, pocketing the money and shuffling the cards with his practiced hands. When no one responded, he raised his eyebrows. “Givin’ up already? Aw c’mon!”

Another pause.

“Tell ya what,” He pulled some of the money out of his pocket and showed it to the men, immediately recapturing their attention, “If any one of you wins this next game, I’ll return all my winnin’s. Deal?”

The men had all foolishly agreed. Race grinned even wider, clapping his hands together. “That’s what I’m talkin’ about!”

The sixth game had begun smoothly until one of the men noticed Race counting cards, a trick the young boy had mastered years ago. The man quickly communicated it to his fellow players through hushed whispers while Race was busy deciding his next move.

“Hey! This bastard is countin’ cards!” He hissed. The other three men whipped their heads around to stare at him, lowering their voices.

“You sure?”

“ ‘Course I’m sure, you idiot. How else would a kid win five games in a row? That ain’t no dumb luck. I saw him do it just now.”


When Race finally made his play, he looked up at the four figures he was crouched in front of, his cocky smile soon vanishing as he took in their furious facial expressions. He had been caught.

“Got somethin’ to admit?” One of them asked as all four rose to their full height in front of a now cowering Race. The newsie’s eyes widened as he saw them begin to crack their knuckles menacingly.

“I…” Race began, quickly pocketing the cards and the money, standing up and backing agains the alley wall. “I don’t know what you’re talkin’ about.” His heart began to pound as the four men advanced on him, his shoulder blades pressing into the brick.

“Don’t play dumb, kid.” Another one of the men growled, reaching out and shoving Race further back so his head smacked against the hard stone. He winced, his hands beginning to shake and his eyes darting around, looking for any possible escape. “We saw you countin’ cards.”

Race cursed himself for not being more careful. He had gotten too cocky after his string of wins and forgotten that the men were simply dumb, not blind. He tried to open his mouth to come up with any sort of excuse, but all that came out was a weak “Oh.”

The largest man laughed humorlessly. “Oh? That’s all ya gotta say? You’re a cheater,” He stepped closer. “You know how we deal with cheaters?”

Race’s breath caught in his throat. He knew exactly how cheaters were dealt with, especially in Brooklyn. He also knew that, since he wasn’t in his own borough, there would be no one around to help him with this fight. In other words: he was screwed. As more panic set in, he squeaked out, “I-I’ll give you the money back! I- I just thought-“

Just then, a fist came flying at his face, but he was quick enough to dodge the blow. The man who threw the punch hollered in pain when he made contact with the brick wall, jumping back to cradle his bruising fist. Race took the opportunity to shove past him and booked it out of the alleyway.

Now, he was sprinting as fast as his legs would carry him, trying to drown out the threats the men were shouting at him as they followed at a surprisingly fast pace. His heart felt like it had jumped into his throat. He could feel his own panicked pulse everywhere, beating in his lungs, stomach, and head. Race knew that, if these men caught him, he might not survive. God, how could he have been so stupid?

“Damnit!” He cried out as he reached a new alleyway that ended in a dead end, his plan to escape through it now foiled. “Damnit!” He whipped around and attempted to run back out of the alleyway, but instead of running forward, he smacked right into the solid figure of one of the men.

Baring his teeth, the man shouted “Gotcha!” And grabbed Race by the collar of his shirt. Race let out an embarrassing squeak as he was lifted off of his feet to face the man. “Over here, boys!” The man called, still smiling a terrifying smile at the boy in front of him. “You’re gonna get what you paid for, kid.” He growled. Race was thrown onto the ground as the other three men ran into the alley, all breathing heavily but obviously pleased to see that their culprit was caught.

Race scrambled backwards as fast as he could, unable to get back on his feet due to the sheer amount of terror paralyzing his body. As the men advanced on him, he made one last attempt to bargain with them.

“Please! I’ll do anything!” He cried out, digging the money out of his pockets and throwing it on the ground. “It’s yours! It’s all yours!”

“Too late for that.” One of the men spat at him and Race felt tears pricking at the corners of his eyes. He couldn’t die like this. He couldn’t have Jack and Crutchie and the other Manhattan newsies out looking for him tomorrow. He couldn’t be left in an alley to rot.

The first kick to his ribs was enough to knock him completely flat on the ground. Race swore, attempting to sit up fast enough to at least put up some sort of fight, but a fist connected with his jaw, followed by another, and another, until he tasted blood and tears were running down his face.

“Get off a’ me!” He cried, swinging his arms wildly in an attempt to get any sort of punch in. He felt his fist hit something hard, and then he heard a vulgar curse from one of the men. Opening his eyes, Race saw him clutching his eye. He had no time to celebrate his success, however, for he was soon shoved back onto the ground, taking a beating that would soon have him lying helpless on the dark streets of Brooklyn.

He could hear the men laughing over the pounding in his ears, could feel the fists colliding with his body, making him jerk back and curl up, trying to protect himself. He felt so stupid, so useless. Covering his head with his arms, he squeezed his eyes shut and prayed for it to be over.

And just like that, it was.

There was a sudden deafening silence within the alleyway. Race, still in the fetal position, opened his eyes, slowly uncovering his head and moving his arms to his sides to attempt to push himself up, only to be met with searing pain throughout his whole body. Swearing, he fell back into his original position, unable to turn his neck to see what caused the men to suddenly stop. Was this some sort of sick game? Were they giving him a break before delivering the final blow? Race let out a sob he didn’t know he was holding in, covering his head again, his chest heaving.

“Jesus Christ,” He heard a voice say. Race only covered his face further, trying to stop the tears coming out of his eyes.

“Please stop!” He cried out wildly.

“Race? Jesus, Race, look at me.”

It was the same voice as before, now louder, the speaker clearly closer. The voice was laced with a thick accent and filled with concern. It wasn’t one of the voices of the men. This one was different, and Race would know that voice anywhere.

The Manhattan newsie managed to lift his arms high enough to look Spot Conlon in the eyes. Once he had made eye contact, Spot rushed forward to crouch beside him, worry etched over his normally calm and collected face.

“Race…” He said again, placing a hand on Race’s heaving shoulder, only to have the other boy jerk away, choking out a “No! Don’t touch me!”

“Fuck.” Spot mumbled, unbuttoning his own shirt and shrugging it off of his shoulders, leaving him in a thin, ripped undershirt. “Race, look at me. It’s me. It’s Spot. Those guys… they’s gone, Race. Let me help you.”

Race, still shaking uncontrollably, brought his hands away from his face, his eyes still squeezed shut. He nodded quickly, signifying that it was okay for Spot to approach him. Spot crawled over to the bleeding  boy and cradled his head in one hand while the other used his shirt to wipe the blood off of his forehead and away from his nose.

“W-what happened?” Race croaked, his eyes still squeezed shut. He balled his hands into fists at his sides as Spot accidentally swiped over the sensitive parts of his face, gasping. “Why are you helpin’ me?”

It’s not like him and Spot were friends. Sure, Spot let Race wander through Brooklyn to get to Sheepshead and sure, Race had the uncanny ability to make Spot blush, and sure, the two spent a lot more time together alone than may be considered normal for two newsies of different boroughs, but they weren’t friends.

“Don’t ask stupid questions.” Spot muttered, cradling Race’s face with his hands and slowly turning it from side to side, inspecting the damage that had been done. Race kept his eyes squeezed shut, feeling his cheeks burn under the younger boy’s touch. “What the hell did you get into?”

Race figured there was no use in lying. “Gamblin’. Got caught cheatin’. ” He finally allowed his eyes to flutter open to meet Spot’s. Spot quickly averted his own gaze, clearing his throat slightly and focusing his attention on Race’s other wounds.

“You’s an idiot.” He sighed “Bleedin’ everywhere too. Can you get up?”

“I dunno.” Race said truthfully, his voice still thick with tears. He extended his legs, attempting to conceal the gasps leaving his lips, not wanting to embarrass himself anymore in front of Spot, but failing to hide his obvious pain.

Spot instead of grinning at him and joking about how Race couldn’t take a soaking, stood up and held both hands out to the boy on the ground. Race looked at the hand for a moment before sighing and reaching up to take them. Spot gently pulled Race up. The obvious discomfort on the other boy’s face made his chest hurt. It seemed as soon as Race was standing at his full height, his knees gave out and he crumpled down again. Luckily, Spot was quick enough to catch him under the arms and stop his fall, muttering a strand of curses under his breath as he readjusted to support Race’s weight, winding one of the other boy’s arms around his shoulder and wrapping his own arm around Race’s waist.

“God damnit…” Race muttered, his voice tight with pain. “Those bastards probably broke my ribs.” He paused for a moment, looking down to where Spot’s hand was wrapped firmly around his thin waist, supporting him. “How did you…” He sniffed, wiping his nose on his own sleeve. “How did you get them away? Those guys, I mean.”

Spot took a tentative step forward, squeezing Race’s hip to get him to move forward as well. “Well, I saw ‘em chase you in here and… I was just gonna try to fight ‘em,” he let out a humorless laugh, “but they was big and I was outnumbered. So I told ‘em the police were comin’ and it sent ‘em runnin’ the other way.”

Race, who had previously been focused on walking without collapsing again, turned his head sharply to stare at the side of Spot’s face as the pair made their way out of the alley onto the darkened streets. “You saw ‘em chase me in here? What, you still keepin’ tabs on me?” He attempted to make his tone sound teasing and cocky, but due to his his scratchy throat and shaky voice, he just sounded pathetic and hopeful.

Spot didn’t answer him for a moment, his dark eyes staring straight ahead as he trudged toward the lodging house. “I like to keep track of what’s mine.” He finally responded, making Race’s eyes widen before he sputtered out a different response, “I mean no! I just- damnit- I just need to know what’s goin’ on in my borough, alright?”

“It was past your curfew.” Race commented through clenched teeth as a particularly sharp stab of pain made its way through his ribs. Spot shot him a glare.

“Do you want my help or not?” He spat, clearly uncomfortable with the topic. “I didn’t have’ta keep an eye on you. You’s lucky I decided to.”

Race fell silent after this, focusing more on the pain blossoming all over his body. ‘Jack’s gonna kill me’ he thought, his eyes shooting over to the outline of the bridge illuminated by the moon. ‘He’s gonna kill me and then Davey is gonna kill me again’ He shut his eyes, frustration building up within him. ‘Why did I have to stay out late tonight? Why did I have to be so stupid?’

He soon became so involved in his own worries that he didn’t notice Spot stop him in front of the Brooklyn lodging house. The King of Brooklyn, still holding onto him tightly, looked up at the large door, calculating the best way to get inside without causing a disturbance. Truthfully, he had been planning to sneak in that night, since Race had stayed out so late, and he couldn’t sleep until he knew Race was safely across the bridge and back in Manhattan. However, with Race in his current state, Spot didn’t know if he could make it through the window.

A few more moments of silenced passed between the pair; Spot was thinking of how to get in to the house and Race was cursing himself out, filled with shame and embarrassment that he was even in this situation.

Finally, Spot heaved a sigh and took Race’s arm off of his shoulders, removing his hand from Race’s waist. There was simply no other way to get in. “Can you stand on your own?” He asked, earning a slight nod from Race. “Good. Because we gotta climb through the window.”

Race sputtered out a “W-what? You- we- what? Why can’t you just knock?”

“I’m in charge of the newsies in Brooklyn. I ain’t in charge of the the house.” Spot mumbled. “There’s no way we can just waltz in the front door while it’s locked.”

Race blushed slightly at the obvious annoyance in Spot’s voice. He should be thankful the other boy was helping him at all. He nodded again and soon found himself being led around to the side of the building, his eyes constantly darting around for any sign of the men from before. Spot eventually found the window he was looking for, the one with boxes and miscellaneous items already stacked against the wall leading up to it, and grinned.

“This is the one. You’s gonna go in first and I’m gonna follow t’ make sure you don’t slip and kill yourself.”

Race wanted to protest and complain about his injuries, but knew he was in no position to to do so. Plus, he’d already made a big enough fool of himself already. So, clenching his jaw, he slowly made his way up the stacked boxes and spare parts until he could push the window open. Spot soon followed suit, ready to catch Race at any point, should he fall.

Race hissed as he lifted his right leg up to the final wooden box, his body screaming at him to stop the physical activity, but his brain forcing himself to drown out its prayers. Clenching his fingertips over the windowsill, Race pulled the rest of his body onto the final box.

“ ‘Atta boy!” He heard Spot whisper behind him, causing his already red cheeks to turn even redder.

“Shut up.” He muttered, calculating his final steps to get into the window. He reached one arm over the windowsill, furrowed his brow, and decided to do it all in one go, lifting his weight off the box and trying to pull himself through the gap. However, the intensity of the pain in his arm caught him off guard and he slipped backwards with a poorly hidden squeak of surprise. He felt his stomach jolt as his balance left him and for a moment was prepared to crash to the ground, but then Spot’s hands were reaching out and preventing his fall, unfortunately, both hands having to support Race right on his backside.

“Easy there, hotshot.” He hissed. “You wanna wake the whole damn neighborhood up?”

“No! Get your hands off my ass.” Race snapped back, secretly thankful for Spot’s assistance but now even more embarrassed than before. Spot rolled his eyes behind him and, instead of taking his hands off of Race, he pushed him up the rest of the way through the window before clambering up himself.

When he finally settled both feet on the floor, he noticed Race gripping his left arm and wincing as he looked around the room. To his right, there was a single, small bed with an even smaller dresser at the foot of it, and across the room was a desk, a chair, and near the door was a sink. “This all yours?” He asked, clearly impressed.

Spot took a few steps forward, taking Race’s arm in his hands. “Being the king has its perks” He answered, not looking Race in the eye, running his hand up and down the arm, checking for any obvious breaks. “Your arm ain’t broken but it’s swelled up somethin’ fierce. I can wrap it.”

Race pulled the limb away. “You don’t need to. I just need somewhere to sleep before I go home and get killed by Jack.”

“Yeah and he’s gonna kill me too if you go home lookin’ like you do.” Spot retorted, striding over to the dresser and yanking open the drawers, rummaging through until he eventually found a long, thick piece of fabric. “This’ll do,” He muttered, walking back over to Race and gesturing at him.

Race cocked his head to the side, still holding his arm, unsure of what Spot wanted him to do. The younger boy rolled his eyes again. “Off with the shirt.”

Race felt his face heat up, but knew he had to do as he was told, or Spot would probably send him right back out that window. He brought his still shaking hands up to his shirt and undid the buttons, sliding his suspenders off of his shoulders and eventually shrugging the shirt off as well.

Spot was suddenly more tense than before, his words coming out short and strained. “Arm out.” Race held his arm out and let out an “Oh, lord” at the sight of the swollen, bruised wrist and the bruised forearm and bicep. Spot, now refusing to even look at him, reached out and attempted to begin wrapping it, but Race immediately jumped back at the contact, cursing loudly and biting his lip.

Spot jerked his head up to look at Race’s face, poorly hiding his worry behind a half-scowl. “Don’t do that!” He ordered. “The more you move the more it’ll hurt. C’mere.”

Race hated the way his chest tightened when Spot said “C’mere”. He hated the way it sounded so affectionate and concerned. He hated that he was in this situation: a shirtless, blushing, pained mess in the middle of Spot’s bedroom. He hated that he wanted Spot to make him feel better and hold him close until the sunrise.  

“I…” He began, slowly holding his arm back out. “It hurts” He finally said honestly, looking down at the ground in shame. “I’m sorry.”

Spot paused for a moment, gnawing on his bottom lip as he carefully took Race’s arm back in his hands. Ignoring the fluttering in his stomach, he took a deep breath and reached forward to tilt Race’s chin up in a way that wasn’t romantic at all, no sir. Their eyes met.

“Look at me— just breathe, okay?”

Race’s wide eyes blinked at him once before he let out a tiny, breathless “Okay,” finding it harder and harder to ignore their close proximity and how Spot was looking so deeply into his eyes. If he just moved a little closer he could-

Spot suddenly cleared his throat and looked back down at Race’s arm. His expression had turned hard as he realized the intensity of the moment. This was wrong. Helping Race— a newsie who didn’t even belong to him— and thinking of Race in… that way. It was wrong.

He began wrapping Race’s arm with fixed concentration, acutely aware of how Race had listened to his advice and was taking deep, slow breaths to help distract him from the pain. Once the job was finished and the fabric was tied at the end, Spot squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, dreading the next moments that would, without a doubt, be incredibly awkward.

He eventually took a step back from Race, still not meeting his eyes and brushed his hands off on his pants, taking his shirt from over his shoulder and tossing it on top of the dresser. “Uh… There ya go.” He said, the normal smooth charm completely missing from his voice.

Race inspected the bandage on his arm, noticing how Spot wrapped it so he could still bend it. Suddenly overcome with a strange, warm feeling in his chest, he looked up at the other boy, who was suddenly much too far away. “Spot,” Race said, causing Spot to freeze in his steps. He finally looked at Race with a questioning expression on his face, waiting for Race to finish his thought.

“Thank you.”

Spot’s cheeks burned. “It’s nothin’,” He attempted to turn back to his dresser and end the conversation. He couldn’t look at Race standing there, shirtless, in the middle of the room, looking beautiful and vulnerable, without losing control. “Don’t worry abou-“

“No— I mean… I mean thank you for everything.” Race interrupted, limping forward to turn Spot around by his shoulder. “Thanks for, uh, for watchin’ over me.” He finished, now shuffling awkwardly back and forth on his feet, suddenly very aware that he was half naked and that Spot was staring at him.

The silence that fell after he was done speaking was haunting. Race tensed, not knowing if Spot was going to turn around and ignore his statement or possibly punch him in the face for being too close and too honest. Spot Conlon wasn’t really known for doing “emotions”.

Race was considering walking away and leaving the conversation at that, but Spot spoke just as he was about to turn away.

“I’m glad you’re okay.”

The injured boy couldn’t help the smile that slid onto his face at Spot’s honesty. The younger of the two was staring at him intently, his eyes flicking down to Race lips before he forced them back up. Race’s smile faltered slightly, his expression turning serious as he saw Spot looking at his lips. Instead of fear filling his brain, desire clouded over his mind and he swallowed hard, looking Spot in the eyes, silently daring him to do something. When he didn’t move, Race took the initiative.

“Yeah, well,” He breathed out, taking another step closer so that their noses were almost brushing, taking Spot not punching the daylights out of him as a good sign. “I’m glad you saved me.”

It was a cheesy line, he knew it. But it was definitely the right thing to say because the next thing Race knew’ Spot’s hands were on the side of his face and his lips were smashed against his.

Race stumbled backwards, but one of Spot’s hands snuck it’s way around to the small of his back, supporting him and bringing him back so that their chests were pressed together. Race brought his hands to Spot’s neck and kissed him back eagerly, several different elated, anxious, and confused thoughts filling his head. He pushed them aside as Spot retreated for a moment, breathing heavily.

Neither boy said anything for a minute, but slowly two smiles made their way onto their faces, acting as a silent communication that this was okay. Nothing else needed to be said at that moment, and Spot leaned back in to recapture Race’s mouth with his own.

And, for the moment, Race felt safe.

~~~~~~~~~~~

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